But he is proving to be the Bishop of Rome that even we bad Catholics had prayed for. Since the white smoke rose in March, Jorge Bergoglio has overseen a quiet revolution — or at least, as much of a revolution as an institution like the Vatican will allow.

As he showed on his trip to Brazil last week, he is the Pope without pomp. A Pontiff for the impoverished. Frugal Francis. His first call on taking office was for a “poor Church for the Poor”. He tells the faithful that God’s most important message is mercy. He preaches eloquently against consumerism. And he leads most powerfully by example.

There’s no hiding behind the Popemobile’s bullet-proof glass — he wants to ride in an open-top Jeep. A two-room residence was picked over the opulent papal apartments. The Vatican staff bonuses have been nixed. Most importantly, Pope Francis has strengthened the Vatican’s rules on child abuse, the scandal that has so damaged the Church’s moral authority. And this week, he even showed a gentler stance towards homosexuality — not one that satisfied Peter Tatchell, understandably, but it should be seen as progress. Somehow, Francis I has become the leader that even the Guardian newspaper (aka Pope-bashers ’R’ Us) is unable to hate.

As he showed on his trip to Brazil last week, Francis is the Pope without pomp. A Pontiff for the impoverished

The Church should be above such worldly considerations as PR victories, of course. But as a sinner, I must confess to enjoying this. It’s the first time I can recall that the leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Catholics hasn’t seemed like Pontifex Non Grata in this country.

Growing up, I was often aware of a little hostility to the “smells, bells and superstitions” of us left-footers. But three years ago, in the run-up to the state visit of Francis’s predecessor Pope Benedict XVI to Britain, the nation suddenly seemed gripped with the fever of 1533. In The Independent, one columnist wrote: “If one is a Catholic, then surely double-speak and duplicity are second nature.”

Even friends who pride themselves on tolerance referred to Benedict as “the Nazi Pope”. I became well-practised in the Ratzinger defence: that his family opposed the Nazis, that he only joined the Hitler Youth when conscripted, that he refused to attend meetings. It was a cheap attack but a constant one.

Benedict’s abdication showed great courage. Unfair though this may be, it has also proved to be one of his great services to the Church. For his successor, the quiet chemist from Buenos Aires, is managing what he could not: to open the windows of the Church — and let in the light.

Hard cheese on Cumberbatch

In an article for Radiotimes.com, two body language experts have tried to explain something I thought needed no explanation: why everyone adores Benedict Cumberbatch. Seemingly bidding for a spot in Pseud’s Corner, one describes the handsomely otter-faced actor as “a taste you had to acquire”. Apparently, indulging in some Cumberloving is “like drinking a fine wine or eating a piece of Stilton. It might not be great at first but after a while you feel immensely smart and superior that you do actually prefer him”.

Now, as someone who has cultivated a six-year Cumbercrush, I must object to his being compared with a chunk of stinky Stilton. Benny C (as I call him in our committed if fictitious relationship) is clever. He is incredibly talented. He seems like the type who’d give up his seat to a pregnant woman on the Tube. In short: what’s not to fancy?

The honours system’s real hall of shame

Expecting sense from this country’s honours system is probably as absurd as imagining Charlie Sheen could be called to the priesthood, but was it really necessary to strip Vicky Pryce of her gong? The economist, jailed earlier this year for taking speeding points for her ex-husband Chris Huhne, has this week had the Companion of the Order of the Bath given to her for services to economics annulled.

Apparently Pryce — who turned up tagged before a House of Lords committee in July, so devoted is she to serving the cause of economics — was tarring the reputation of the institution.

So let’s consider some of those still venerated. Jeffrey Archer, the perjurer, is Baron Archer of Weston-super-Mare. Mark Thatcher, he of the coup fiasco, is a “Sir”.

Even Jimmy Savile, the paedophile presenter, can’t be posthumously stripped of his knighthood. On second thoughts though, perhaps Pryce is better off out of this club.

Some cheer at last in the NHS

Operation NHS Annihilation has suffered a setback. Yesterday, the High Court deemed Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt’s plan to reduce A&E and maternity services at Lewisham hospital “unlawful” — a judgment met with cheers from campaigners, who had raised £20,000 to mount a legal challenge.

Lewisham hospital is not in financial difficulty. It is well-run, with the emergency department benefiting from a £12 million upgrade only last year. It was being crippled because its sick neighbour — South London Healthcare Trust — is haemorrhaging cash. This victory proves that the public can take on the Government and win. Isn’t this the Big Society that David Cameron banged on about?